


Purikura

by ArchangelUnmei



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Japanese Culture, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelUnmei/pseuds/ArchangelUnmei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Japan just likes to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purikura

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt that wanted to know about the Nations normal lives with normal humans.

It's half past six, and Japan realizes that he is late.

He didn't really have a choice, the meeting ran late and he'd needed to be there, but he feels guilty all the same.

He hurries home, changing out of his exactly tailored suit, taking the moment it takes to hang it up properly though his tie is flung uncaring onto the kitchen table. He dresses in his favorite distressed jeans, the ones with the rips in the knees and the zippered pockets. Next he pulls on a plain white t-shirt, and a zippered hoody, white and red checks with the brand name printed large across the back. Pausing only long enough to stuff his wallet into his back pocket, he pulls his black high tops on in the genkan, grabs his keys and locks the door behind him.

His bike is parked right where he left it downstairs. He rather likes his bike, it's so much cleaner, more efficient than his car. He enjoys riding through Tokyo, taking in the sights and feeling the wind in his hair. He doesn't notice the sights today, pedaling hard and hoping his friends haven't given up on him.

He rounds the last corner with a screech, ignoring the driver he cut off swearing at him in muffled Osaka-ben. He grins in relief to see them still standing in front of the arcade; Hoshiko in her cute little sailor-style uniform (Japan thinks he will always, _always_ have a weakness for those, no thanks to America), Kyousuke in his blazer though he's already shed his tie, Kento must have had time to go home and change because he's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt similar to Japan's.

They turn as he brakes beside them, Kyousuke lifting a hand in greeting. "Kiku-senpai, there you are."

"Sorry," Japan grins, breathless as he dismounts his bike and locks it up beside theirs. "I had something I needed to take care of." He turns, offering them a shallow bow. "I should have called, I know."

Hoshiko waves him upright again with a grin. "Well, you're here now, so it's okay. Kyousuke-kun was late too."

"I had cram school," Kyousuke defends himself as they turn to go inside.

Japan can't help but smile, glad that as a nation he looks forever young. It's easy to pass off as a university student, and he's always felt a tight connection to this new generation, these post-war children who are so unlike their parents. They are change, Japan can feel it in his bones, and he is glad that they call him a friend.

Hoshiko grabs him by one arm and Kento by the other, Kyousuke trailing along and laughing as she drags them toward the bank of high-tech photo machines in the corner. Kento groans, pretending to try and get away as Hoshiko shoves him into the booth, Kyousuke and Japan piling in behind them. They each dig through their pockets, contributing a hundred yen each, and they take turns picking the backgrounds and poses. They laugh while the pictures are taken, giving each other noogies and bunny ears, and for the last picture Hoshiko grabs Japan and gives him a kiss on the cheek, squealing in delight when he turns bright red.

"You're so old-fashioned sometimes, Kiku-senpai!" she laughs as they ease their way out of the booth, trying not to step on each other's toes. "It's so cute!"

Japan knows his face is still as red as the sunset, but he offers her a slight smile. "And you're so forward, Hoshiko-chan," he teases back. "So _American_-like."

"Alright you two, stop flirting!" Kento rolls his eyes, tugging them behind the small curtain that will let them decorate their pictures with text and sparkles and small cartoon animals. Eying them both, Kento draws hearts around the picture of the kiss.

They go for karaoke afterward, singing together late into the night. Japan thinks he hasn't laughed so much in a long time as he slowly rides home through the darkness. When he gets home, he unlocks the door of his empty house, toeing off his shoes before he pads inside to his library. After only a moment of searching, he pulls down the book he's looking for and flips it open. Sheets of purikura prints are already nestled between a lot of the pages, kept safe and pristine. Japan starts to add tonight's sheet to the collection, then pauses.

Reaching into his desk, he retrieves a pair of scissors and carefully cuts off the picture of himself and Hoshiko, liberally covered in sparkles and hearts thanks to Kyousuke and Kento. The others he tucks into the book, replacing it in its place on the shelf.

That one picture he carries upstairs to his bedroom. Peeling off the sticker backing, he carefully aligns it against the corner of his dressing table mirror, then smooths it down where he'll see it every morning.

He smiles, stepping back to admire his handiwork. This generation is change. He knows it, and he loves them for it.


End file.
